


Nothing To See Here

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, F/M, Fantasizing, Friends to Lovers, Horniness, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Masturbation, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Unconventional Masturbation Techniques, Voyeur Sam, Voyeurism, masturbation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7573783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Sam doesn't know won't hurt him.</p><p>Still, maybe he would like to know what you got up to in the diner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing To See Here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hiddenwritingsintheworld's Sam’s Fifty July Kinks](http://hiddenwritingsintheworld.tumblr.com/post/147005892974/sams-fifty-july-kinks-kinks). My chosen kink was "masturbation".

You’re sat across from Sam in a classically styled diner that is just down the road from the motel you’re staying at. The hunt’s over, ghouls dispatched, but Dean’s off at a bar—hooking up with god knows who—and so it’s just you Sam. In a diner. Nothing special.

Two malts.

You’ve got chili cheese fries and a salad.

He’s got some weird chicken salad combo with Lebanese style rice.

Sam’s flicking through the pages of some old spell tome he’d been meaning to look at for some time. Hair cutely curtaining his face as he leans over the book to read it. Right hand holding a fork that’s failing to pick up any salad. You cleaned up after the hunt and you can smell Sam’s zingy apple shampoo over the odor of the food. It’s a nice smell and you kinda wish you could just get over there and rub your face in it.

Mouth at Sam’s neck. Straddle his denim clad lap and rub against him.

Chili cheese fries cooling, you cross your legs under the table. You’re blushing, but you can’t help it. The restrooms are gross and you need relief. Sam is looking like a nerdy Adonis and you need to do something about this. So you pull your legs together a little tighter, your jeans tightly pressing against your crotch. Maybe if it hadn’t been the run up to that time of the month you could have held out a little longer, like until the motel. At least the pills you were on meant you knew when things were on their way.

And it’s not like you and Sam are dating. And it’s not like you’re about to make much noise. There’s hardly anyone in the diner and you know from experience that most people don’t know what you’re doing when you do this.

Because it’s not like your hands will be going anywhere. Though god, do you wish you could trail your hands over Sam’s chest. Push up under his t-shirt and open plaid shirt. And that thought makes you clench and unclench your thighs, putting pressure on your clit and lips and then releasing it. Your breath stutters a little, but no one’s paying you any attention.

If only Sam would just realize that you had a thing for him and not Dean! Sure Dean and you would talk about all the pop culture references, and make Flash Gordon jokes as you put your hand in dark holes—but you were just friends. It’s Sam that you wanna bite and lick—you squeeze your thighs together and relax them again. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release.

Why can’t Sam see that you want to touch _him_ all over and kiss praises into his warm skin? You clench and unclench your thighs over and over, thinking about what you want to do to Sam, you can feel yourself starting to slide over yourself a little. Feel how wet you’re getting as you don’t even touch yourself.

Staring at Sam’s impossibly sized hands, you consider what it would be like to have two of his fingers deep inside you as his thumb rubs against your swollen clit. You think about how he’d probably smile greedily as he forced you to come on his fingers again and again. In the diner, your thighs tremble as you squeeze one last time, breath caught in your chest and then Sam’s looking _right at you_. Sweet confusion on his face as he notices the redness of your cheeks.

And you come, your walls stuttering inside you as your orgasm hits. You stay quiet and let out a long, shuddering breath, eyes fixed on Sam’s. You uncross your legs and sink deeper into your seat.

Sam still looks confused. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Absolutely fine.”

“You’re flushed and your breathing’s all weird. I’ll pay and get some containers for the food, and we’ll head back to the motel.”

“But—” and before you can even say anything in protest, Sam’s gone to the counter. Letting out a sigh, you decide that at least this means that you’ll be able to just continue where you left off once you’re back in your room and Sam’s in his.

Sam brings over some polystyrene to-go boxes and you help pack up your leftovers. Putting the boxes in bags, Sam carries them from the diner. The motel is only a few doors down, so you walk.

“You feeling okay?” Sam asks again, clearly concerned.

“I’m fine. We really didn’t just have to up and leave like that.”

“Oh, well… at least we can eat and… sorry,” Sam says, voice sounding a little wounded.

“Hey! I’m happy you’re looking out for my well being.”

Reaching the motel, you head over to the end where your rooms are. Dean and Sam are sharing and you have a room to yourself a couple of doors down. Getting to Sam’s door, you see lights on under the room’s curtains and—

“FUCK. DEAN. HARDER!” Shouts some random woman on the other side of the door.

The blush that rises to Sam’s cheeks is practically radioactive in the evening light and you just grab him by the arm before he can say anything, only just catching the bag of food before he drops it. Dragging Sam down to your room, you unlock the door and hold it open for him. Sam wanders in without a word, seemingly dwelling within a bubble of disgust and shock. He sits on the room’s only bed. Even though the bed is a queen, Sam still looks massive on it.

You haven’t thought this through. Sure, Dean’s got company for the night, but now so do you. And that company doesn’t even think you exist in the same way that Dean’s company does.

Shock wearing off, Sam looks around your motel room, the growing expression of awareness dawning on his face. You look at each other.

“I can take the floor or, or… The Impala’s not that bad,” Sam offers, as you hand him the box with the remains of his meal.

Giving Sam a fork from the bag, you nod slowly. But really you want to take care of your own needs a little more, because this is definitely pre-period horniness that’s making you want to just go into the bathroom right now. Go in, close the door and just do something to your wet folds. But you have company.

“I’m… sure we can share the bed,” you say, damning yourself to a night of sexual frustration, unless you want to spend some of it in the bathroom. Masturbating on a seat opposite Sam in a diner was fine, because Sam had no real way of feeling what you’d been doing. But in the same bed? How do you make your movements so non existent that Sam won’t feel them? The answer is you can’t.

 _Or can I?_ You wonder and then stop yourself as Sam takes a particularly suggestive bite of chicken, salad and rice. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re staring, only just turning away before Sam sees you watching him—studying the bob of his Adam’s apple and the way he licks his lips—and go to grab your own box. Finding a fork, you finish your food and try not to watch Sam as he eats.

Spending the rest of the evening with your shoes off, sat next to each other on your bed while you watch trashy TV shows, you just about manage to calm down. But as you take turns in the bathroom to clean your teeth and get ready for bed—Sam strips down to just his t-shirt and boxers, while you have a large t-shirt over some shorts—there is a distinct feeling of anticipation building in your stomach.

You say very little to each other as you both finally get into the bed. Turning off the light, you curl onto your side, away from Sam. You close your eyes. You try not to think. So of course sleep stays away and your mind starts to wander to the long bundle behind you.

The long, muscular bundle with arms and hands that could push you up against a wall and hold you there—you cross your legs, staying on your side and squeeze, the pressure making your breath catch. _Please don’t hear me. Please don’t hear me. Please._

A lap you could sit and bounce on while those arms and hands hold you.

 _Please don’t hear me._ You clench harder.

Lips that could leave you dizzy and drunk.

 _Please._ Your thighs shake.

“Y/N?”

 _Shit._ “Yeah, Sam?”

“Um, are you... okay?”

“Why… why do you ask?”

“Your breathing’s… all funny again.”

“Ummmm…”

“Y/N… are you, um, masturbating?”

And there it is. Because Sam’s not stupid. Definitely not some inexperienced virgin who doesn’t know what’s what. Has probably shared rooms and… heard things before. You can’t just lie your way out of this now. _He knows._

Taking a deep breath and releasing it, you answer, “Yes.”

Sam gasps at your answer. And you don’t know what’s going to happen now. Don’t know if he’s going to ask for you to stop. Or if he’s going to insist on him sleeping on the floor. Or if he’s about to head out to the Im—

“Could I… could I maybe… watch?” Sam nervously asks.

 _He wants to watch?!_ You process the request and shaikly reply, “Turn on... a light and you can.” He is interested. He is fucking interested. It’s like every single image you have of Sam as an actual person is built on some piteous lie that you double thought yourself into, despite knowing he’d been with other people. And Sam is not piteous and he is interested in _you_.

Sam does as he’s told and you shimmy out of your shorts and hoist your t-shirt up a little. Pulling the bed covers down your body so that Sam can see you in the low light of the bedside lamp. There’s a shaky intake of breath from Sam.

“You’re… beautiful, Y/N,” Sam says, unprompted.

Glad that he can’t see the blush rising on your face, you readjust your legs again, so that they’re wrapped around each other, but you’re not squeezing yet. You’ve masturbated in front of previous boyfriends before, so it’s nothing new as you squeeze your thighs together and bring delicious friction to your clit. You’re waiting for the inevitable question as you get going, finding your rhythm again.

“You can… masturbate without even touching yourself?” Sam asks in awe. The bed shifts behind you as Sam lays down again, but you know he’s turned to face you.

“Sure can. Sometimes… I touch myself, but this is my preferred way of doing things.” You clench your thighs together extra tight for a second and then release, going back to the rhythm of before. “It can be pretty great with a vibrator too, but I didn’t bring any with me.”

“Can I… can I touch you?” Sam asks, voice unsure.

“Yes, please.”

Sam places a hand on your side and strokes down, your nerves singing in response, tingling, before slipping it towards the swell of your ass and cupping your cheeks. His touch is gentle, but full of want.

“Soooo… do you like to watch?” You ask a little breathlessly.

“When I… um… get the chance—I like to watch,” Sam replies, voice huskier than it was a minute ago. Sam lightly strokes up your back.

“So… got a bit of a voyeuristic masturbation kink going on, huh?”

“Pardon?”

“You,” you clench your legs tighter and then let go, letting the pressure inside you build as you repeat the process, “like to watch women masturbate.”

“Fuck, yes.” Sam takes in a shuddering breath. “I’m not use to this method… But the way your leg muscles move… the way you tremble… I can’t believe how hot this is.”

“Know,” you squeeze tight again, getting closer to release, “what else is hot?”

“What?”

Clenching your thighs tight again, breath stopped in your chest, nearly there, you release your legs and purr, “Me masturbating in front of you in that diner and you not even knowing that I was doing it.”

“Oh, fuck!” Sam half whimpers, half shouts. “You d—didn’t?”

“I did.” You squeeze your thighs together again, but it’s not tight enough to make you come. You’ve had an idea. “Hey, Sam… you know what’s as nice as having a vibrator while I do this?”

“No… idea.”

“A cock between my cheeks.”

The strangled gasp that works its way out of Sam is just pure desperation and the bed shifts as Sam pulls his boxers down. Suddenly he’s behind you, massive hard on pressing to the lower end of your crack.

“Like this?” Sam asks as he pushes gently between your cheeks, trapping his cock partly between your thighs, head rubbing against your perineum and vulva. The tease feels good.

“Yeah, like that. Just… let me do all the work. I like to call this hands free mutual masturbation, but you may wanna hold on to me.”

“Right, of course.” Sam slides an arm under you and another around your waist. You tighten your thighs together and let go. Sam whines. “Not gonna last much like this.”

“That’s… fine,” you reply squeezing your legs and holding your breath, “because I’m not gonna last either.”

Sam starts mouthing at your neck and shoulders, laying sweet kisses on your skin, as your thighs and cheeks tremble together. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. Over. And. Over. Putting pressure on your clit; tugging Sam’s cock and making it rub against your folds and ass.

Those strong arms hold you closer as you increase the intensity of the clenches. Sam’s breath catching like yours. That pull in your navel getting stronger and stronger. One last time you squeeze your legs together so, so, so tight, body shaking, not even breathing and then you scream as your orgasm hits. Body trembling in Sam’s arms and your pleasure sends him over as he ruts up against you, never going inside, just coming between your cheeks and legs.

Slowly, you both catch your breath and Sam’s arms loosen enough around you that, as you dislodge his cock from your thighs, you can turn over and face him. Pressing kisses to his forehead, cheeks and mouth, you wrap your arms around Sam, knowing that your juices and his come are making a mess of the sheets.

“So… you… like that?” You ask casually, knowing the answer.

“Hell yes.” Sam kisses you. “You… We’re… I’m…”

Quirking an eyebrow at Sam, you lick your lips and ask, “You wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Yes… but… but in future, when you’re masturbating like you did in that diner—tell me.”

And so you did.

**Author's Note:**

> Find this fic on Tumblr [here](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/post/147907016380/nothing-to-see-here).
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


End file.
